by Jenna Jacob
All right, I can’t touch Sawyer, but there isn’t a man ban on earth that is going to render me blind or shut down my alone-time fantasies. ’Cause this studly cowboy just soared to the top of my Jill list. No doubt I’m going to burn through a load of batteries and might kill a BOB or two before I run out of things I’d want this stud to do to me…over and over again.
“Welcome to Haven, Brea. I hope you don’t mind me keeping your seat warm.”
Still unable to form a single syllable, Brea prayed she wasn’t drooling like a Saint Bernard, because damn. No mortal man had the right to look that damn gorgeous. Sawyer was a living, breathing work of art.
Cursing her ill-timed vow of chastity, Brea focused on stringing words together to form a coherent sentence. But before she could achieve her objective, Sawyer moved in behind her, enveloping her in a masculine mixture of leather, sweet grass, and red-blooded, man. As his scent stroked her senses, Sawyer placed his palm on the small of
Brea’s back, sending heat fanning out over her skin in all directions. And as he chivalrously helped her to her seat, the energy from his touch sent seismic waves rippling through her.
Either the air in the room had shot up a hundred and twelve degrees or Brea was in the throes of a hormone-induced lust-flash. With his hand still lingering at the small of her back, her nipples drew up tight and hard. She’d never had a man—who still had his clothes on—ping her with such visceral need. Even the guys she’d been naked with didn’t peg the needle on her do-me meter like Sawyer. This was bad, very, very bad.
Pull it together, girl. Say something before he thinks you eat soup with a fork, prodded the voice in her head.
“No, not at all. It’s nice to meet you, too,” she replied in a low, breathless tone that sounded like a sex-kitten trolling tomcats.
Enough already! the voice scolded.
An approving hum rolled from the back of Sawyer’s throat as he flashed a panty-flooding smile. It was official. This sensual stud was Brea’s new Kryptonite.
But she wasn’t caving. It was simply time to adjust the tights on her Super Girl suit.
Forcing a smile, she lifted her chin…to keep from gawking at his crotch.
“What brings you to Haven?”
Sawyer’s innocuous question stole the air from her lungs.
Like dandelion seeds being tossed in a summer breeze, her fragile emotions splintered. And as her cheeks caught fire, Sawyer’s dark brows slashed with concern.
Answer him, you fidiot. Lie if you must…but say something!
“Oh, I-I’m just catching up with old friends,” she stammered.
Sawyer gave her a dubious nod before his expression smoothed to a gentle smile. “Well, it’s nice to have such a beautiful woman visit and pretty up our town.”
Hands down, the man was a charmer…one who’d likely charmed the panties off every willing woman in Haven. But even suspecting he shared his bedroom skills with half the town didn’t keep Brea’s hormones from singing like a Baptist choir.
Until she severed the link connecting her heart to her pussy, she’d never know what it felt like to have Sawyer plow her lady garden. Disappointment wrinkled her brow as Brea settled onto her seat.
Sawyer bent in close to her ear. “I know you’re here for something besides catching up with friends. I can see you carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, darlin’. If you ever want to talk, I’m here and will help carry the load.”
His über-keen observation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The last thing she needed was the Long Island Medium’s second cousin twice removed dissecting every piss-poor choice she’d made in her life.
“Are you a psychic, or is helping damsels in distress a weird fetish of yours?”
A sensual smile kicked up a corner of his mouth. Brea wanted nothing more than to slide her tongue over the tempting bow. Well, to begin with.
Sawyer inched in even closer. “Trust me, darlin’. My fetishes would probably scare a pretty little thing like you.”
The lure of his silky seduction was a torture all its own. Before she could think up a witty comeback, the waitress set a plate of food in front of her.
“I’ll let y’all enjoy your dinner.” Sawyer lifted his hand from her back. Still devouring her with his gaze, he tipped his hat. Strands of silky copper fell over his forehead, and Brea clenched her hand to keep from brushing her fingers through it.
“I hope we get to see each other before you leave town, Brea. Have a good night, everyone.”
After flashing her one last spine-bending smile, Sawyer turned and strolled away. Gazing at his retreating form, Brea bit back a whimper. It seemed a sin to watch that sexy ass, dipped in denim, walk out the door.
“I think Sawyer likes you,” Jade murmured for only Brea to hear.
“He’ll have to un-like me. No more men. Remember?”
Her protest sounded reasonable, but Brea ached to wrap herself around that hunk like a three-piece-suit from a thrift store.
Sawyer was as dangerous to her man-free diet as a caramel sundae with whipped cream and a cherry on top. She couldn’t cave and sate her sexual sweet tooth, because one taste of his sugar cone would only leave her wanting more. If Brea had any hope of getting her life in order, she’d have to stay far, far away from that clit-throbbing cowboy.
Chapter Two
Sawyer
* * *
Blood pumping like lava, Sawyer jogged across the street—to the only bar in Haven, the Hangover. He needed a cold beer to calm his nerves, and probably a shrink to help explain what the fuck had just happened. He’d met and been with a lot of women…a whole lot, but none had ever struck him with such a lightning bolt of lust like his cousin’s friend Brea. It totally confused and baffled him.
She intrigued him.
But why?
Brea hadn’t been overtly friendly or flirtatious. Quite the opposite, in fact. She’d been almost shy…unsure. The complete opposite of the bold, brazen, and experienced women he usually played with. The ones who knew exactly what he would give them—multiple orgasms with no messy entanglements like emotion or love. But there was something sensually erotic and wholly arousing about Brea that made Sawyer want to discover every dirty way he could make her purr and scream his name.
Blowing out a deep breath laced in frustration, he stepped into the dimly lit bar, welcomed by a country-western song blaring from the jukebox. He would have preferred hearing eighties rock and roll, the kind his mom had listened to while he was growing up. She always claimed that Def Leppard, Aerosmith, and Queen had kept her sane while raising six rambunctious boys. It was probably true. With zero help from him or his brothers, Nola Grayson had kept her cool through a daily avalanche of fistfights, foul language, and chaos. As an adult, Sawyer admired her even more for not killing one or more of them.
Jerking a nod to his younger siblings—twins Noble and Nate—playing pool at the back of the room, Sawyer strolled to the bar. His other younger brother, Nash, sat nursing a beer. Clapping him on the back, Sawyer sat down beside him.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Nash shrugged, sullenly. “Just hanging out.”
“Where’s your other half?”
It was rare to find Nash alone. Usually he and Megan, his grade-school sweetheart, were joined at the hip…or the lips.
“Washing her hair.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.
Uh-oh. There was trouble in paradise. “What are you two fighting about?”
“Same shit…different day.” Nash let out a heavy sigh. “She wants me to pin down a wedding date.”
“Then do it.”
“I’m not ready yet.”
“What are you waiting for? A better offer?”
“Maybe.”
“Pull your head out of your ass, man. Do you honestly think another woman is going to put up with you the way Megan does?”
“No.”
“Then why are you dragging your feet?”
“Yeah, it’s called life,” Sawyer drawled.
“That’s not what I mean. What if we wake up one morning and decide we want to be with someone else? Sara did.”
Knives of regret stabbed deep. Sawyer had always strived to set a good example and be a decent role model for his younger brothers but failed miserably. Swallowing the bitterness staining his tongue, he shrugged. “I’m living proof there’s no guarantee of happily ever after. Sometimes all you can do is roll the dice.”
“I hate gambling.”
“Fair enough, but do you really love her?”
Nash growled and sent him a glare. “How can you even ask that? You know I do.”
“Then stop sitting here like a whiny little bitch, sulking in your beer, and call her.”
His brother’s shoulders slumped. “I already tried. She won’t answer.”
“So you’re just going to give up and sit here with your dick in your hands? Get off your ass, go to her house, and apologize.”
Nash pinned him with an indignant stare. “For what? I didn’t do anything!”
Gina—the mid-thirties owner and bartender with pale blue eyes, strawberry-blonde hair, and the mouth of a seasoned sailor—handed Sawyer a mug of beer. He nodded a silent thanks, took a gulp, then turned back to his hardheaded brother. “You’re right. Don’t apologize and don’t set a date. You’re not ready to make a commitment.”
“What do you mean I’m not ready? I am, too!” Nash lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, ready to fight.
“No you’re not. If you can’t swallow your pride and apologize just because she needs to hear it, you’re definitely not ready. Marriage isn’t about who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s about making compromises.”
Sawyer hadn’t gained his words of wisdom from watching Dr. Phil or listening to shrinks dish out advice on talk radio; they came from six long years of struggling to make his own marriage work. Unfortunately, it had been a losing battle. Sara, his ex, didn’t have an apologetic bone in her runway-model body. The woman was self-centered, uncompromising, and right…even when she was wrong. Sawyer had spent six long years making concessions without an ounce of reciprocation.
After driving to Dallas for her third plastic surgery—a breast augmentation after a rhinoplasty and tummy tuck—Sara confessed that she’d been having an affair with her plastic surgeon. A part of Sawyer had been relieved at the news. Though Sara had grown up in Haven, she hated small-town life. She coveted diamonds, jewels, and designer underwear—thongs studded with diamonds if he could have afforded them—not barn dances, testicle festivals, Main Street parades, chili cook-offs, or shit-kicking tractor pulls. And she most definitely did not like the plain gold wedding band he’d placed on her finger.
After that debacle ended, Sawyer had vowed to never let the words I do roll off his tongue. Of course, he had no qualms about whispering, I’ll do you all night long to the single women of Haven.
Out of the blue, Brea’s face surfaced in his brain. Glancing toward the door, Sawyer longed to sprint across the street. He wanted another glance at the dark-haired vixen.
Glance, my ass.
He wanted to take her home and do her every which way but Sunday.
“I can too apologize,” Nash challenged. Sawyer blinked and turned his focus back on his angry brother. “I apologize to Mom all the time for her givin’ birth to you!”
“Aren’t you a fucking comedian?” Sawyer smacked his brother on the back of the head. “Stop busting my balls and go make things right with your woman.”
Grumbling, Nash stood and tossed a five on the bar. “If she kicks my ass, I’m coming back to beat the fuck out of you. Got it?”
Sawyer grinned and nodded as his brother stormed toward the door. A part of him hoped Megan would take a frying pan to Nash’s head. While it would definitely dent the metal, she might get lucky and actually knock some sense into his dumb ass.
Grabbing his beer, Sawyer absently traced his brother’s steps, then paused at the window as Nash drove away. Turning his attention toward Toot’s and Colton’s truck, Sawyer clenched his jaw.
What the hell am I doing standing here?
Sawyer knew the reason…he wanted another look at Brea.
Yeah, but why?
He didn’t have a reasonable answer for that one. For a man who never chased after woman like a wolf in heat, Sawyer was sure ready to do some hunting.
It made no sense.
Still, he lingered at the window, hoping to catch sight of the sultry sprite. Suddenly, his younger brother Noble pressed in against Sawyer’s back, peering out the window as well.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”
“Just finished watching Nash head out to Megan’s with his tail between his legs.”
“What’d he do to piss her off this time?”
“He ran.”
“Ran from what?”
“Commitment.”
Noble, the older twin—by a whopping minute and a half—clinked his mug with Sawyer’s and winked. “I’d don’t blame him. I’d run from any woman who thought they could tie me down…run like the hounds of hell were nipping my heels.”
His brother was a barefaced man-whore, a confirmed bachelor, and was highly allergic to commitment. His twin, Nate, was the polar opposite—introspective and quiet and vowed to remain a virgin until his wedding night.
Dumb ass.
“You always do.” Glancing toward the pool table, Sawyer arched a brow. “How many times have you whupped Nate’s ass?”
“Six,” Noble preened. “How about you? Want to try redeeming your embarrassing track record?”
“And lose all my money to your pool shark ass? No thanks.”
“Pussy.”
Movement across the street caught Sawyer’s attention. He watched as the trio walked toward Colton’s truck. The sight of Brea made Sawyer’s heart kick up faster. When she smiled at Jade, she looked like a goddess. That was the moment Sawyer realized he was already obsessed with the girl. The only way to purge her from his system was to forget her or fuck her. Sawyer prayed it would be the latter.
“What are you gawking at now?” Shoving in alongside Sawyer, Noble nearly pressed his nose to the glass. “You’re either one brave son of a bitch or the dumbest dipshit on the planet. If Colton catches you eye-fucking his woman, you’ll end up in a body bag.”
“I’m not looking at Jade, you fuck-nut.”
“Oh, my. Who’s that juicy cut of prime beef with them? She’s pretty.” Noble let out a long, low wolf whistle. “You need some attention, sweet thing? Come on over here, I’ll give you every inch you can handle.” It took all the strength Sawyer possessed not to beat his brother bloody. “I bet they’re going to do some kinky threesome shit when they get back to Colton’s ranch.”
“No they’re not! She’s an old friend of theirs, you pervert.”
“Okay, but are you sure they’re not…together? ’Cause that shit would be hot as fuck to watch.”
“Do your favorite porn sites know you’re cheating on them?” Sawyer smirked.
“Nope, and they don’t care. That’s the beauty of the internet.”
“I can’t believe we came from the same mother. But then, I’m not all that surprised. You did spend your formative years jacking off to Dad’s Playboys.”
Noble laughed. “Don’t pull that innocent bullshit with me. When I was sixteen, you were begging for me to tell you everything I did with the Lauderbach twins before they moved away. Hell, you’ve one-upped me by regularly doing all three of the sisters now. Face it, bro, you’re more twisted than me.”
Sawyer wasn’t about to spill his guts and burst Noble’s bubble with the truth, so he simply shrugged.
“Are we playing pool, or are you two gonna stand there all-night comparing dicks?” Nate called from the back of the bar.
/> Noble leaned in and, with a conspiratorial whisper, said, “He gets testy when he loses.” Then turned and started walking toward his ill-tempered twin. “If yours wasn’t so small that you needed a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass to take a piss, you could join us, too. But since you don’t measure up with the big boys—”
“Go fuck yourself,” Nate groused. “My dick’s bigger than both of yours combined.”
“And you give it one hell of a workout…alone in the shower, don’t you, bro?”
“Kiss my ass,” Nate snarled as his face turned red.
Sawyer rolled his eyes at their banter, then glanced out the window. Hope evaporated, melting into disappointment as the taillights of Colton’s truck faded into the night.
Tipping back his beer, Sawyer drained the mug. But it did little to ease his nerves. Brea had rattled him, and he still didn’t know why. It wasn’t like him to let himself get twisted up over a girl. Until he could compartmentalize the bizarre effect Brea had on him, Sawyer mentally brushed his feelings off his sleeves. He wasn’t about to let his brothers discover some chick he didn’t even know, was messing with his mind. He’d never hear the end of it.
“You boys keep your big, bad dicks in your pants, or I’ll toss you out for indecent exposure,” Gina warned with a grin.
“That’s not what you told me last night, darlin’,” Noble teased.
“You’re right. Last night I told you to have fun with Rosey Palm and her sisters,” Gina countered with an unladylike hand gesture.
Sawyer and Nate laughed. No other woman in Haven could cut a man down or lift his spirits like Gina. Noble rolled his eyes, smirked, and blew her a kiss as the front door burst open.
Victor LaCroix, the surliest bastard in town, stomped to the bar and flopped onto a tall stool. The smile on Gina’s face turned brittle.
“What can I—”
“Same damn thing you get me every fucking night…whiskey,” Victor growled.